


The Chirping of the Birds

by AzraelGFG



Series: Singing Birds [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, F/M, Fluff, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Past Sansa Stark/Wendel Frey, Puppies, Sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-02 15:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10947528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelGFG/pseuds/AzraelGFG
Summary: Companion Story and Deleted Scenes from "And the Birds sing no more"





	1. Sansa: Time to fly

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @LadySansaClegane for betaring :)
> 
> This Chapter plays before Chapter 1 one "And the Birds sing no more"

The blade felt cold and sharp against the skin of her throat with every word that left her mouth.

The last words of _‘Gentle Mother, Font of Mercy’_ had left her lips, and some instinct made her lift her hand to cup his cheek with her fingers. 

The room was dark, only weak green light came in from between the window’s shutters. Sansa could only see a dark outline of his face, but she felt something wet on his cheek; a wetness that wasn’t blood.

“Little bird,” he said, the softness in his voice somehow moved her.

He had waited for Sansa in her room. He was drunker and angrier than Sansa had _ever_ seen him before. 

He had scared her at first, but then, he had told her he would leave soon, and could take her with him.

She had hesitated at first and told him that Stannis wouldn’t hurt her. He had pulled her close and told her that Stannis was just as much a killer as the Lannisters, or even her own brother.

After that, he had demanded a song before pushing her down on her bed, pressing his blade against her throat.

Somehow, Sansa had managed to remember the Mother’s Hymn, despite her fear of the Hound slicing her throat.

Sansa felt his breath against her face as he came closer, thinking he meant to kiss her.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss, when she suddenly felt his weight shifting as he left her body, taking the blade from her throat, with him.

She heard him sheathe his dagger, and then she sat up.

He slowly walked over to the door and Sansa’s heart nearly burst from out of her chest.

What if he was right? What if Stannis wouldn’t release her back to her family? Or, what if Ilyn Payne found, and killed her, before Stannis’s soldiers could even take the city? 

What if Stannis’s soldiers _did_ take the city? Would they break her door down only to rape and kill her before she even had the chance to explain who she was?

The Hound _had_ never lied to her, after all. He had _always_ been honest with her, as well. He was also the _only one_ who actually came after her during the Bread Riots; ultimately saving her from being raped and murdered by the angry mob a few weeks ago. 

So, if _he_ tells her that Stannis isn’t any different from the Lannisters, then he is probably right.

Sansa heard him unbolt her door.

“Wait,” she cried. He stopped his movements, but did not turn to face her; he only waited.

She quickly got off her bed and walked over towards him. As he slowly turned around, his grey eyes fixed on her. 

_His eyes don’t hold their usual rage_ , Sansa thought. _There only appears to be… sadness?_

“Will… will you _hurt_ me?” she shyly asked. Her throat felt dry and her head hot due to all the wine the Queen had _insisted_ she drink all night.

“No, little bird; I won’t hurt you. No one will hurt you again, or I will _fucking kill them_ ,” he rasped. Sansa felt as if he truly meant his words, even in his drunken state.

“I will go with you,” she said.

“Then come, little bird; we don’t have much time,” he rasped.

“Wait, I need a few things,” Sansa declared as she swiftly moved to her cedar chest. 

She put on another pair of stockings and her riding boots. They were already getting a little small for her still growing body, but they were the only boots she had.

She also grabbed an additional shift, smallclothes, and several strips of linen cloth Shae had given her, for use during her moonblood, that was still upon her.

The Hound watched from the door, his patience seemingly wearing thin with every second that passed.

“Got everything?” he asked. 

Sansa held her clothing in one hand before quickly grabbing the little doll her father had gifted her from atop her dressing table.

“The little bird still plays with dolls?” he asked, teasing.

“It was the last gift I was given by my father,” Sansa told him, though he didn’t say anything further.

Sansa grabbed her cloak and they quickly left her room.

He suddenly stopped at the corner of the next corridor, leading Sansa to nearly collide into him.

He quickly turned around and rasped “Stay close to me,” causing Sansa to nod in response. 

“If I say ‘ _stop_ ,’ you stop. If I say ‘ _run_ ,’ you run; understand?” Sansa nodded once again.

“Time to fly, little bird. Keep your hood up until we are out of the city.”

Sansa followed him in silence and didn’t question his decision to stop at the kitchen, where he got several wineskins.

They luckily didn’t meet anyone, but Sansa feared their luck would run out at _any_ moment.

As they crossed the courtyard towards the stables, Sansa saw the heads of several servants Cersei ordered Ser Ilyn Payne to behead earlier, all because they were said to be stealing.

The sounds of the battle carried over the castle walls.

The stables were empty, apart from a lone horse Sansa assumes belongs to the Hound.

Sansa looked uneasy at the huge black beast, but she was surprised to see how the Hound stroked his horse’s flank.

“ _Now_ we can leave, Stranger,” the Hound quietly whispered to his horse, loud enough, still though, that Sansa could clearly hear it. 

_Did he really only wait for me to leave with him_? Sansa thought, the thought strangely warming her heart.

“Give me your stuff, girl,” he rasped. Sansa blushed as she handed him her extra shift and smallclothes to store in one of his saddlebags.

“Be careful around him; else you might lose a finger,” he rasped as he led his horse out of the stable.

Sansa followed him out and watched as he mounted his giant beast. He then extended his hand to her, yet she hesitated in taking it.

This was her last chance to turn around. She could stay here and be at the mercy of either the Lannisters, or Stannis Baratheon, should _he_ be this battle’s victor.

However, she took the Hound’s outstretched hand, surprised at the warmth of it, and he effortlessly lifted her up to sit in front of him.

“Time to go.” He had his arm around her mid-section as he spurred his horse into fast gallop, swiftly riding right out of the Red Keep.

Sansa’s head spun during the entire ride through the city. Everything simply flew by, and _nobody_ spared them a second look.

 _I really did it_ , Sansa thought. She fled with the Hound, and Joffrey would probably want to hunt them down.

The thought scared her as she glanced back on the city after passing through the city gates.

Only the flames of the Blackwater Bay lit up the moonless night sky. 

Sansa had no idea where they were riding, though she didn’t dare ask the Hound. She simply held onto his arm that was still around her middle as they rode into the darkness of the woods. He sometimes took sips from his wineskin, even occasionally offering Sansa some, as well; though, she always declined.

The Hound had stopped his horse at some point as a war horn could faintly be heard in the distance.

Sansa asked him what it was, and he said that it was probably Lord Tywin coming to save the city.

Sansa was dead tired and her head ached from all of the wine she consumed earlier. At some point, she had somehow managed to fall asleep against his chest, only waking once he _gently_ shook her shoulder.

“Girl; wake up,” he rasped, and Sansa immediately opened her eyes.

The first light could be seen above the crowns of the trees. They were still deep within the forest.

“We’ll make camp,” he rasped after getting off his horse and finishing one of his wineskins. 

“You should sleep.”

He spread his horse blanket out on the ground before building a fire.

Sansa felt the need to make water and blushed at the thought that he might hear what she was going to do.

She went into the trees, but made sure that she didn’t wander too far off.

Sansa lifted her skirts, pulled down her smallclothes, and sighed in relief at finally being able to empty her full bladder after hours of riding. 

She cleaned herself with a cloth and saw the bloody stains in the early morning light.

Her moonblood cloth was completely soaked with blood, considering she hadn’t been able to change it since before the battle begun.

 _Gods_ , Sansa thought, and blushed. _I am going to have to ask him to make the occasional stop during riding. And I will have to actually explain why… and to the Hound, no less!_

Sansa isn’t sure how he will react to that area of a woman’s needs.

She replaced the cloth in her smallclothes and returned to him, finding him sitting near the fire, drinking his wine. 

Sansa sat down next to him and he immediately handed her a piece of bread.

“Eat, then try to sleep,” he simply said. Sansa silently took the bread, not saying anything.

She ate the bread in silence and laid down on the blanket, her cloak tightly wrapped around her. She was so exhausted that she quickly fell asleep.

***

Nearly a week had passed since they managed to flee. They hadn’t met a single soul and neither had anyone been sent after them yet, either.

Sansa had thought it strange not seeing anyone at first, but Clegane had assured her that the smallfolk were either hiding, or had fled the lands, themselves, considering they were now in a warzone.

Sansa had stopped calling him Hound, seeing as he is no longer Joffrey’s dog. 

Her moonblood had finally ended and Sansa was glad for it. She felt heat rise up her neck at the remembrance of her first time having to ask Clegane to make a short stop, and having to explain as to why. 

After that, he had, thankfully, always asked her if she needed an occasional break.

Since the wine had run out the second day of their journey, he began behaving strangely.

She had tried to talk to him, just to make the journey more endurable; but he always just told her that there was no need to talk.

Sansa had no idea why he was behaving that way. He didn’t even mock her for her chirping when she hadn’t been able to start a fire a few days ago. 

He was simply brooding in silence the entire day, sometimes muttering under his breath about how he would kill for a wineskin.

Maybe he regretted taking her with him. After all, she was probably a burden to him, and he could travel much faster without her.

Sansa sat on the horse blanket while Clegane was skinning a hare he had snared for dinner.

“Can I help you?” Sansa asked kindly, like a lady should; though Clegane simply ignored her. “I would like to help you,” Sansa said again, but his only answer was a snort.

Somehow though, that was the final straw.

“What is your _damn_ problem?!” Sansa cursed angrily at him, getting to her feet. “I am being nothing but kind, and I want to help you!”

Clegane’s grey eyes snapped up from the bloody hare and focused on her.

 _Gods_ , Sansa thought, _I just yelled at him!_ Her heart was nearly bursting from her ribcage. His eyes seemed to pierce directly into her soul.

“The little bird wants to help her captor,” he mockingly said. His roaring laughter caused birds to fly out of the trees, and into the sky, in panic. 

“Captor?” Sansa asked. “You are not my captor.” 

_Is he thinking he is my captor?_ Sansa thought, frowning.

“The little bird chirps everything she hears,” he growled. “Aye, your captor. Don’t even try to lie about wanting to be here, in the middle of nowhere, instead of back in your warm chamber, where a servant brings you your dinner.”

“Is that what you think?” Sansa asked. “That you abducted me?”

His silence, topped with how he averted his eyes to the ground as if he were ashamed, was answer enough.

Sansa slowly walked over to where he was sitting, as if she were approaching a wounded wild animal.

She hesitantly placed her hand on his shoulder and his head snapped up, letting Sansa see the shame and vulnerability in his eyes.

“What do you remember from the night we fled?” Sansa asked in a whisper.

“Not much,” he rasped. “I only remember that I was in your room… you sang to me… and I held a knife to your throat. Not much after that… you must certainly _hate me_.”

He looked at the ground again.

 _Was he really thinking that?_ Sansa thought. _No wonder he wouldn’t talk to me. He can’t bear the thought of me hating him._

Sansa gulped and carefully squeezed his shoulder.

“S…Sandor, _look at me_ ,” she said. It felt strange to call him by his real name. She had never done so before, as it wasn’t what a lady was supposed to do.

He slowly lifted his eyes to hers.

“I _don’t hate_ you, and I am _not scared_ of you. I know what made you flee from the battlefield and come to my rooms, and it’s alright, Sandor. You didn’t force me to do anything. You gave me an opportunity. An opportunity that I took, because I know that you will never hurt me. I came with you, Sandor, because I _wanted_ to come with you.”

“Really?” he asked and Sansa chuckled.

“I thought you could smell a lie. Take a good whiff; you will only smell the truth.”

“Little bi… Sansa… I am sorry; for the last couple of days, I…”, he started but Sansa interrupted him.

“I know, and it’s alright. But from now on, you won’t brood in silence when I try to talk to you,” she said, lightly laughing as he chuckled along with her.

She sat back down on the blanket as Sandor finished preparing the hare, putting it over the fire.

Sansa watched as the fat dripped down into the fire and eyed Sandor over the flames, from time to time.

There was one question she asked herself, ever since the day he had yelled at Joffrey that it was _‘enough’_ while Trant was beating her. The day he had given her his cloak to cover up her humiliation.

“Why do you care for me?” she asked over the flames and sizzling sounds of burning fat.

He never lifted his eyes off their dinner as he answered. “I simply don’t like to see you getting hurt, little bird.”


	2. Sansa: Chriping in the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter also plays before Chapter 1 of "And the Birds sing no more"

They had traveled for nearly two months now, and would probably soon reach Riverrun.

Sansa became more and more excited to finally see her mother and brother, once again. It’s been _such_ a long time.

_Maybe Arya would be there, too_. After all, Arya _had_ escaped… if _anyone_ was able to return to their family on their own, it was her little sister.

Gods, she had been so awful to her. Sansa would apologize over and over again, for everything, should she see Arya in Riverrun.

The evening was approaching quickly and Sandor told her they would make camp for the night.

After Sansa made it clear to Sandor that she came with him of her own free will, things had been going better with every day that passed.

At first, he had been reserved during their conversations, but over the last few weeks, they had started to talk about any and everything, under the sun.

Sansa told him of Winterfell, the North, and her childhood, growing up, while Sandor had talked about his own childhood, growing up at Clegane’s Keep. Sandor had even talked to her about his mother and a sister, who he barely even remembered.

Sansa had been surprised to hear that he had a sister. But, when he told her of how he suspected Gregor to having murdered her, Sansa understood that the memory was still painful for him.

It felt strange, at first; to talk to him so openly about everything. 

After all, a lady was only supposed to look pretty and talk about lady-like things, considering how her opinion wouldn’t be valued when it came to more serious topics of conversation.

Sandor though, showed honest interest in what she had to say, and actually seemed to even value her opinion.

There hadn’t been one single moment during their journey where Sansa hasn’t felt completely _safe_ with him. 

His _very presence_ made her feel safe; even in the darkest of nights, right there in the middle of the woods.

They had just finished dinner and were sitting near the campfire for a while, before going to sleep. “How far away are we from Riverrun?” Sansa asked.

Sandor added another piece of wood to the fire. “Less than two weeks, I should think. Soon, you will be back with your family, again; and rid of me,” he said, at which Sansa heard a sort of _bitterness_ in his voice, towards the end.

“Why would I want to be _rid_ of you, Sandor? You are _my friend_ ; I don’t _want_ you gone!”

“So, we are friends now, are we?” he asked, smirking.

“Of course, we are, Sandor! But, if you already have plans to leave after reaching Riverrun, I won’t have you stay, just for me,” Sansa said.

“I don’t have any plans after bringing you to your family, little bird; after all, there is probably a bounty out on my ugly head, anyway.”

“So, will you stay?” Sansa asked in a voice laced with hopefulness.

“And what would I do in _Riverrun_ , little bird, should your _Kingly brother_ , by some miracle, decided _against_ taking off my ugly, scarred head as soon as he sees me?” 

“You can be my sworn shield,” Sansa told him, smiling.

Sandor was silent for a moment.

“And what makes you so _sure_ they will actually _allow_ that?” 

“My mother and my brother _love_ me; they will listen to me. And once they have me safely back with them, they will _happily_ reward you with _anything_ you want! So, if you should ask them to become my sworn shield, they will allow it; I just know it! _Especially_ after I tell them how you saved me so many times.”

“I sure hope you are right, little bird,” he said. Sansa was so glad that he agreed to stay with her.

“I just _know it_ , Sandor. With _you_ as my sworn shield, _nothing bad_ can _ever_ happen to me, _ever_ again!”


	3. Sandor: Pleasant reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @Lalelilolu <3
> 
> This chapter playes between Chapter 63 and 64 of "And the Birds sing no more", so be aware of spoilers if you havent read Birds yet.

They had crossed the Trident a few hours ago. It had been difficult through the autumn floods, but they had managed.

Since the harbors of Saltpan and Maidenpool were completely destroyed, traveling North by ship hadn’t been an option for Sandor, Jon, and Maege.

Sandor had feared that the Ruby Ford might not be passable any longer, but luckily, they had made it.

Unfortunately though, the weather had gotten worse since they had crossed the river, and heavy dark clouds now engulfed the sky.

“There’s a storm coming,” Jon said, looking towards the sky.

“Aye, we need to find some shelter,” Maege added.

“I might have an idea where we can stay,” Sandor said and led Stranger off of the Kingsroad as Jon and Maege followed him.

“Where are we going?” Jon asked.

“There is a farm close by. We might can find shelter there, and maybe even a warm meal,” Sandor explained.

“When have you been here before?” Maege asked him, curious.

“Sansa, Arya, and I ran into the farmer. He offered us shelter and food for the night, after Sansa told him that I fought for the Starks and Tullys,” Sandor explained. “He was kind to us; even helped Sansa so that the Red Wedding wouldn’t have any… _lasting effects_ … for her.”

Maege nodded understanding.

The little farm came into sight and some chickens were scurrying away from the newcomers. It hadn’t changed at all, and when Sandor saw smoke coming out from the chimney, he sighed in relief.

The door opened and the farmer came out to check out who was approaching. He looked very surprised once he spotted Sandor.

“ _You_? I thought that I would _never_ see you again,” the farmer said as Sandor came over and shook his hand.

“Likewise,” Sandor said as he looked at his companions. “Can we, maybe, take advantage of your hospitality, once more? We still have a long ride ahead of us.”

“Of course, absolutely! Sally’s already making dinner,” he said. “Who are your companions?”

“Friend, this is Lady Maege Mormont of the Bear Island, and this is Jon Stark, the brother of the girls that were with me the last time I was here.”

“Welcome to our home,” he said as he led the group into his humble abode.

“Sally, we have guests.”

The farmer’s daughter looked surprised. “Oh, you’re back,” she said, stirring the stew. 

“How _are_ the Stark girls?” the farmer asked as he gestured for them to sit down at the table.

“They are fine; we are actually on our way back to them. We just came from the war and I hope to return before my wife gives birth,” Sandor said.

“Oh, you have married; good for you,” the farmer said as he filled their bowls.

“Lord Sandor is married to Princess Sansa,” Maege said.

The Farmer nodded and Sally’s smile lit up.

“See, Sally, I _told you_ he would be good to her. I knew that the Princess wouldn’t have chosen him if he wasn’t a good man.”

“He is most worthy of Princess Sansa,” Maege said.

While they ate, Sandor and the others told Sally and the farmer, who introduced himself as Roland, what had happened since he had left the farm—how the North was back under Stark rule and how the Dragon Queen was ruling the South.

“Still planning to go to your brother, now that the war is over?” Sandor asked Roland.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I _should_ do it, now that winter has come. Plus, I haven’t the coin to buy or rent any lands.”

“Where in the North does he live?” Maege asked.

“Near Karhold.”

“How convenient,” Sandor said, chuckling. “The husband of the Lady of Karhold sits right there, next to you.”

“I don’t see any problems with giving you a piece of land,” Jon said. “You helped my sisters when they needed help. It’s only fair, I feel, if I return that favor.”

“Thank you, m’lord,” Roland said, grateful. 

“You’re quite welcome. Do you know how you will get to the North?” Jon asked.

“No idea. Maybe if I sell the farm and cattle, I will have enough to buy ship passage for me and Sally; once Saltpans harbor is restored, that is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sandor said. “I have some gold. Take it as a ‘ _thank you_ ’ from my wife, for your help, when she most needed it.”

Roland seemed to be overwhelmed by the unfolding events.

“By the Gods, thank you m’lord,” he said. “Sally, it seems we are going North, after all!”

Maege got a wineskin from her saddlebag and asked Roland for enough cups for the group. “Let’s drink to that,” she cheered.

They all raised their cups. “To two new Northern citizens,” Sandor exclaimed, and they _all_ cheered in agreement.


	4. The Deer and the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last three chapters play between Chapter 69 and 70 of Birds. So be aware of spoilers if you havent finished the main story yet.

Winter was raging with all its might these last few weeks as guests from all areas of the North, and Westeros, arrived.

Although the weather made travel difficult, everyone who was invited came to Winterfell to witness the wedding of the King in the North and his Baratheon bride.

A few months ago, after they had returned from Meera Reeds wedding in Greywater Watch, Bran asked Shireen if she would honor him by becoming his Lady Wife and Queen.

Sansa still remembered how prettily Shireen blushed when Bran had asked for her hand as they were all sitting in Bran’s solar, that evening.

Shireen’s eyes sparkled with pure happiness when Bran had taken her hand and spoken the words.

Of course, Shireen had happily answered Sansa’s brother—that she wanted nothing more than to become his beloved Wife; promising to be, not only a good Wife, but to also a good Queen for him, as well.

Shireen probably would have married Bran right there in the solar, that very moment, had she been able. However, Bran wanted to wait until his sixteenth nameday passed, making him a man fully grown by the Law of the Land.

It was only three months until Bran’s nameday, anyway, so it wasn’t too much of a delay. Besides, it would give guests the time needed to make the long, arduous journey to Winterfell, as well.

The ravens left with invitations for all of the Lords of the North and the Stormlands, the very next day, alongside ones for the Tullys, and for Queen Daenerys, and Queen Asha, as well.

Everyone answered that they would be attending. After all, a Royal Wedding wouldn’t be a very common occurrence in the near future.

Within the three months leading up to the wedding, late Lady Catelyn Stark’s old Sept had been completely reconstructed, seeing as how Shireen worshipped the Seven, in her heart; despite her mother and father having converted to followers of R’Hllor, the Red God.

Sansa thought it sweet that Bran would do that for Shireen; just as their father had originally built the Sept for their mother, in the first place. 

When Sansa had first stepped into the small Sept with its colored windows and figures of the Seven, it had reminded her of two things: one, she remembered how she would often visit the Sept with her Lady Mother, and how she had loved all the colored stained-glass windows, carved stone figures, and numerous candles. And two, she became sad, and bitter, once the unpleasant memories of her own wedding in the Sept at the Twins came back to the forefront of her mind.

None of the Seven Gods had helped _her_ that day. None of them had prevented what had happened to her, _nor_ her family, that night. Not a single one of them had protected her from her first husband, Wendel Frey.

After her initial visit to Winterfell’s Sept, a stroll in the Godswood, with Sandor and Serena, made the dark memories disappear, once again.

While Sansa didn’t know if the Old Gods actually heard her prayers, she was convinced that, at the very least, her father watched over her through them.

As the guests arrived from the Stormlands, the Lords were finally able to swear their fealty to their Lady Paramount.

While none of the Lords _openly_ opposed the wedding, it was clear as day that they weren’t _completely_ happy about Shireen’s marrying a Northman, either.

They had probably all hoped that the last daughter of House Baratheon would marry one of _their_ sons, just so _they_ would become the new Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Storm’s End, rather than a cripple, who became King in the North.

Nobody _dared_ say anything _openly_ , though, considering how the Northmen were already in love with their future Queen.

Today, one day after Bran’s sixteenth nameday, the wedding was to be held.

First, there would be a small ceremony in Winterfell’s Sept, in the Light of the Seven, immediately followed by one at the Weirwood, in the Godswood, afterward.

During the last couple of weeks, Shireen had become more and more excited, and nervous, about her wedding, while she and Sansa sat sewing her wedding gown and Maiden’s Cloak.

Lord Manderly had sent delicate Myrish lace and fine white silks as a wedding gift, so Sansa included them in the creation of Shireen’s gown.

Sansa had _also_ made a new tunic for Bran to wear, letting everyone see that _he_ was the _King_.

Sandor stood next to her in the small Sept, with Serena on his arm. Sansa had made their daughter a little gown out of soft white wool with a direwolf embroidered in yellow and black silk thread on the bodice.

Arya stood to the left of her, the swell of her belly now clearly visible beneath the gown she was wearing. Only a few moons, more, and Arya would become a mother, herself.

Alys stood next to Jon, each one holding one of their son’s in their arms.

Queen Daenerys stood with her Hand, Lord Tyrion, in the first row, right next to Queen Asha.

The murmuring between Lords and Ladies stopped once the doors of the Sept opened and Shireen entered in her beautiful white silk gown.

She held onto Gendry’s arm as she walked down the aisle to where Bran was already awaiting her in his wheelchair.

Bran was smiling widely at his bride, a bronze crown resting atop his head. Sansa’s little brother had tried so hard to grow a beard lately, much to Sansa’s, and Arya’s, amusement; though, Shireen seemed to like it.

“You may now Cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection,” the Septon began. Shireen turned her back towards Bran, allowing him to unfasten her Maiden’s Cloak displaying the Crowned Black Stag on a Yellow Field of House Baratheon.

Bran then replaced it with his Bride’s Cloak of a fierce Direwolf embroidered on a lush white velvet cloak.

Shireen turned back around and the Septon tied their hands together with a silken ribbon.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls; binding them as one, for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. _I_ am _his_ and _he_ is _mine_ , from this day until the end of my days,” Shireen said. While Bran said his own vows, Sansa remembered how she had spoken the very same words, so many years ago.

After they had spoken their vows, Shireen leaned forward and Bran gently kissed her lips.

Sansa was the first person to cheer after their lips parted, with the crowd following her lead.

After the ceremony in the Sept was over, they all convened to the Godswood to witness Bran and Shireen speaking their oaths, once again, in front of the Weirwood.

***

After the ceremony in the Godswood had concluded, the feast began. Everyone merrily celebrated the new marriage of the King in the North to his Queen, the Lady Paramount of the Stormlands and Storm’s End, until the early morning hours.

The entire evening, guests were delighted by the attendance of the North’s two little prince’s and princess, until they were taken to bed by their nurses.

Serena squealed happily as she sat in Queen Daenerys’s lap while she and Sansa discussed all of the progress being made in the South.

After Serena had been taken to bed, though, Sansa took advantage of the rare opportunity to finally dance with Sandor, once again, since the last wedding at Castle Cerwyn.

As Bran and Shireen left the feast together, Sansa could see that everyone was happy for their King to finally have his beloved Queen.

Sansa hoped that their father saw them and knew that each of his children had finally found the right person to share their life with.


	5. The empty den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the new trailer for S7 got me hyped, by having that much Sansa in it, a new update for you all!

Nearly two years had passed since Bran and Shireen’s wedding. Winter still hadn’t lost any of its harshness, but the people of the North were at least used to it by now.

Sansa sat alone in her solar. Having just finished feeding Elynore, the little girl was now peacefully sleeping in her cushioned basket, safely tucked into her warm blankets. 

Sansa added another log to the fire and sat down on the cushioned couch, enjoying her occasional _alone time_. 

Serena was with Sandor for the time being, and sometimes, father and daughter went riding together. Serena always seemed to squeal with delight anytime she was placed on Stranger’s tall back.

It was interesting to see how Stranger was still intent at biting any hand or finger that wasn’t Sandor’s or Sansa’s, even after all of these years. Although, he _never once_ angrily stomped a hoof, nor even annoyingly _snorted _/, for that matter, at _either_ of the two newest wolf pups of House Stark.__

__Sansa picked up her needlework, hoping she might be able to finish her embroidery while her youngest daughter slept peacefully next to her._ _

__Shortly after Sansa began adding her first few stitches, though, someone knocked on the door._ _

__“Come in,” Sansa called. Shireen entered the room before she closed the door as quietly as possible once she saw Elynore sleeping in her basket._ _

__“May I stay for a while?” she asked. “Bran is in the Godswood with Hodor.”_ _

__“Of course,” Sansa said as she offered Shireen the seat next to her. “How are you?” she asked, kindly._ _

__“I am fine,” she answered, but Sansa heard a hint of sadness in her voice._ _

__She eyed her and saw that Shireen was gazing at Elynore sleeping while heavy tears began welling up in her eyes._ _

__Sansa put down her needlework and pulled her brother’s wife into an embrace, just as the first sob escaped her._ _

__“Shh, Shireen,” Sansa tried to comfort her. “Whatever it is, it can’t be _that_ bad.”_ _

__Shireen only sobbed harder._ _

__“I am so _useless_ Sansa,” she sobbed. “Bran and I have been married for nearly _two years_ , now, and not _once_ have I shown _any_ signs of being with child.”_ _

__So that’s _what all this is about_ , Sansa thought. She continued to rub comforting circles over Shireen’s back._ _

__“ _Everyone_ has been able to have a child, but me! You, Arya, Alys… even your friend Jeyne,” she said between sobs. “Even my _mother_ was able to bear at least _one_ daughter; but I can’t even do that!”_ _

__Sansa hugged her tighter._ _

__“I can’t give Bran the heir the North deserves. Soon people will start to _hate_ me.”_ _

__“Who will start to hate you? _Everyone_ loves you, Shireen” Sansa assured her._ _

__“The North!” she sobbed against Sansa’s shoulder. “Soon they will start to ask themselves if their King shouldn’t have a _Northern_ wife, instead. One that would be able to do her _duty_ to the North.”_ _

__“Shireen,” Sansa said, warmly. “ _No one_ in the North will think _any less_ of you, much less actually _hate_ you, just because you don’t have a child yet. Sometimes, it can take a while to have children. And even if you and Bran _never_ have any children, you can rest assure that Bran will not ever stop loving you! Nor will the _North_ stop loving you, either! _Everyone_ sees how happy the King is with his Queen by his side, and you are a _great_ Queen, Shireen. You are kind. You are gentle. You are what the North _needs_ during this harsh winter.”_ _

__“You can’t know that, Sansa. What worth is a Queen who can’t do her _duty_?”_ _

__Sansa loosened her embrace a little and wiped away the tears from Shireen’s cheeks as she looked back at her with red puffy eyes._ _

__“Shireen, please listen, as I want you to hear this coming from someone who has heard of her _‘duty’_ in life—and quite often, mind you. There is so much more to the _‘duty’_ of a Queen than just producing heirs,” Sansa explained to her. “There have been other Kings and Queens in the North who _never_ had any children, for various reasons; yet no one loved them any less than our people love you, now.”_ _

__“You are just saying that to make me feel better,” Shireen said and cast her eyes to the ground._ _

__“Shireen, look at me,” Sansa said, warmly, and Shireen’s puffy eyes looked up at her._ _

__“I am not just saying this to soothe you. During House Stark’s _entire_ eight-thousand year existence, there have been _many_ Kings and Queens who died _without ever_ having any children. History will not remember you as the Queen unable to birth an heir, Shireen. You will be known and remembered for your kind and gentle heart,” Sansa said, feeling as if she may have _finally_ gotten through to her. _ _

__“You are still young, too. You and Bran still have _many years_ to try becoming parents. You two make each other happy, and that is far more important than birthing a dozen heirs within a few short years!”_ _

__Shireen chuckled at that and dried her tear stained cheeks with her sleeve._ _

__“Yes, Bran does make me so very happy.”_ _

__“Then you should be happy, and not sad, about something you have absolutely _no_ influence over,” Sansa said, kindly and reassuringly._ _

__“You are right, Sansa; it’s just… I always imagined that I would become mother. I never wasted a single thought that this wouldn’t be a possibility for me.”_ _

__“I know, but Serena and Elynore love their Aunt Shireen, anyway; _with_ , or _without_ , any nieces or nephews.”_ _

__Elynore had woken up by now, and Sansa carefully picked her up out of her basket and placed her in Shireen’s arms. Her little girl immediately got comfortable before falling back asleep again, safe and snug in her Aunt Shireen’s loving embrace._ _

__“See?” Sansa said, and Shireen smiled widely._ _

__“Yes,” Shireen answered in an emotionally thick voice._ _

__“I love _all_ of my nieces and nephews,” she said before kissing Elynore’s soft black hair._ _


	6. A tiny birds needle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year and a day ago I published my first real Fanfiction. So this chapter is kind of a celebration :D

Sandor had just finished his daily sparring session with Lyra Mormont and was now on the way to his and Sansa’s chambers when Serena ran towards him.

“Papa!” his daughter exclaimed laughingly, her auburn hair flying freely as she ran towards him.

“Tiny bird,” Sandor replied as he squatted down right before Serena flung herself into his strong arms. “What are you doing?” Sandor asked, kissing her cheek, before he stood tall once again while holding Serena securely in his arms.

“Mama, said that Aunt Arya comes to visit us soon with Uncle Gendry, Ned and Robert,” his daughter said happily, rubbing her cheek against his scars. “She _might_ even bring _Nymeria_ along, too!”

Sandor knew how much Serena loved her Aunt’s huge direwolf. 

“I know, Serena,” Sandor said. “The raven arrived just this morning. Where is your mother?”

“She is with Elynore in Aunt Shireen’s solar,” Serena said. “Mama showed me how to embroider and I made something for Aunt Arya as a present for when she arrives.”

“You did? Do you want to show me?” he warmly asked, as he entered his and Sansa’s chamber.

Serena pulled a handkerchief from out of the sleeve of her grey and yellow gown Sansa had made for her.

As she held it out to him in her small hand, he took it carefully.

Serena’s stitches were a little crooked, but Sandor could clearly see what his daughter tried to embroider.

He could clearly see that Serena stitched her Aunt Arya with Nymeria by her side. A little auburn haired girl riding Nymeria’s back was very obviously supposed to be her.

“Your Aunt will be very happy with your gift, darling,” he rasped as he traced the stitches. “You are just as talented as your mother.”

“Thank you,” she said and blushed just as prettily as her mother always does at the compliment. “I am working on something for you, too, but it isn’t finished yet.”

“Then you might want to go and finish it, tiny bird. I need to go wash up and change into fresher clothes, first, due to my time sparing, else your mother will kick me out of our chamber tonight.”

“Alright, Papa,” Serena said and kissed his cheek before she happily left the room and headed back to her mother, little sister, and Aunt Shireen.

Sandor chuckled to himself as he removed his tunic and washed off any sweat from his earlier sparring.

He had just put on a new, clean tunic when Sansa came in, holding Elynore.

“Hello, my love,” she said and gave him a kiss.

“Hello, little bird,” he said, before kissing the crown of Elynore’s head.

“Serena just headed back to you,” he said.

“I know; Shireen is going to keep an eye on her for a few moments. I wanted to come greet my husband,” she said and kissed him again.

“Has Serena shown you the handkerchief she made for Arya?” Sansa asked.

“Aye. She has your talent,” he said.

“And _your_ stubbornness when she didn’t know how to create a certain pattern of stitches,” Sansa said laughingly while slightly rocking Elynore on her arm.

“Aye, she is half you and half me, that’s for sure,” Sandor said.

“Indeed, my love, indeed. And who knows _what_ the future might hold for her… _and_ for us?”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think :)


End file.
